A Lantern in the Window Read Free Page A

shoulder Annie could see a substantial log
house directly ahead with light in the windows, and the dark
outlines of numerous other buildings scattered nearby. The dog,
large and black, was barking madly and running alongside the
wagon.
    "Quiet, Jake, good dog.”
At Noah’s order, the dog stopped barking, running close beside them
with his tail wagging hard.
    Bets, too, was awake now.
Eyes still heavy with fever, she peered around and then took
Annie’s mittened hand in her own and squeezed it. Annie gave her a
reassuring smile.
    The wagon stopped. Noah
jumped down and came around, lifting first Annie and then Bets to
the snowy ground.
    “Go ahead in,” he
instructed. “Tell Gladys Hopkins I’ll take her home right
away.”
    Stiff from the hours in
the wagon, Annie staggered up the steps and across the porch to the
door, Bets’s hand tight in her own. It was thrown open before she
could decide whether to knock. Inside was a small, round woman with
a neat brown bun on the top of her head, prominent blue eyes, and a
wide, welcoming smile. She looked perhaps a dozen years older than
Annie. The room behind her was warm and smelled of food
cooking.
    "Well, so here you are.
Welcome to you." Already wrapping herself in a black coat and
holding a red checkered shawl, the woman closed the door behind
them with a bang. “No sense heatin’ the world, I always say. I'm
Gladys Hopkins, we're Noah's neighbors west of here. So you’re the
new Mrs. Ferguson. Noah already said your name was Annie." Her
bright eyes were kind and curious. “And who might you be, dearie?”
She smiled at Bets.
    "This is Betsy Tompkins,
my sister,” Annie supplied hurriedly. “Pleased to meet you, Mrs.
Hopkins.”
    “You call me Gladys, I'll
call you Annie. We’re gonna be friends. Goodness knows we’re the
only white women this side of the Hat. Sorry I have to hurry off
like this, but it’s fixin’ to storm, and I got a husband and a
daughter waitin’ on their supper. I left soup and fresh bread on
the warmer over there fer you.”
    She gestured to the
cookstove against the wall and then tied the red wool scarf over
her hair. She leaned close to Annie, whispering in her ear, “The
old man in there’s had his supper. Didn’t eat enough to keep a
sparrow alive. He’s in a right fair temper, same as always these
days. Don’t you let him get the best of you now,
dearie.”
    At that moment, the door
opened and Noah came in with the tin trunk.
    Gladys jumped back and
said in a loud, guilty voice, “I’ll come visitin’ soon as the
weather allows. Hope you settle in fine, Annie. My stars, would you
look at this snow? Bye-bye, now, Betsy.” She went out quickly,
closing the door behind her.
    Noah thumped the trunk on
the floor, returning a moment later with the carpetbags and her
hat, which he dumped unceremoniously on top of the
trunk.
    “Make yourselves right at
home," he said, and Annie flushed, recognizing sarcasm when she
heard it. “It’ll take me at least three hours to get back, and
then, madam, I’d say you have some explaining to do.”
    Before Annie could begin
to think of a response, the door slammed shut behind him and she
and Bets were alone. She closed her eyes for a moment and breathed
a sigh of relief. At least she’d have time to gather her wits about
her before she had to face him again. He was downright
formidable.
    For a few moments, they
busied themselves with taking off their coats and shawls and boots.
They hung their things on the pegs by the door, then stood side by
side, looking wide-eyed around the large, pleasant room, each
silently comparing it with the small, cramped space they’d shared
in the city.
    Noah Ferguson had written
that he wasn’t well off, but to Annie, this looked like a grand
house indeed.
    The area was softly lit by
a coal-oil lamp that had roses on the glass shade. The lamp was set
on a crocheted doily on a high dresser beneath a window.
    The room, a very large
combination kitchen and